


Pots & Kettles

by rebeccastceir



Series: An End. A Beginning.  - MOOD BOARD [11]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hanzo's really good at impersonating people, Impersonations, Light Angst, M/M, Very Very Light Angst, our boys get drunk and silly again, right on that cusp from friends to something more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccastceir/pseuds/rebeccastceir
Summary: Hanzo watched as Jesse leaned against the tower rail, pulling a flask out of his clothing to take a long swig. “Should you be drinking that while on duty?”Jesse gave him a dirty look. “Man who’s got a sake gourd strapped to his hip at all times ain’t got any business tellin’ me what I can an’ cannot drink.”Hanzo scowled.Jesse held his hands apart and gave him a wry grin. “Pots and kettles, sweetheart. ‘F you get to be all dark and broody ‘bout the sins ayerpast, so does e’erybody else.”Hanzo sputtered. “I am not - not -”Jesse lifted an ‘oh-really’ eyebrow.Hanzo felt himself reddening, and turned away.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, McHanzo
Series: An End. A Beginning.  - MOOD BOARD [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002075
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	Pots & Kettles

Hanzo watched as Jesse leaned against the tower rail, pulling a flask out of his clothing to take a long swig. “Should you be drinking that while on duty?”

Jesse gave him a dirty look. “Man who’s got a sake gourd strapped to his hip at all times ain’t got any business tellin’ me what I can an’ cannot drink.”

Hanzo scowled.

Jesse held his hands apart and gave him a wry grin. “Pots and kettles, sweetheart. ‘F you get to be all dark and broody ‘bout the sins a _yer_ past, so does e’erybody else.”

Hanzo sputtered. “I am not - not -”

Jesse lifted an ‘oh-really’ eyebrow.

Hanzo felt himself reddening, and turned away.

Jesse chuckled quietly. “Where is that sake gourd anyway? What kindja got in there?”

Hanzo’s hand fell to it somewhat protectively. “Ozeki Nigori.”

“Nice.” Jesse looked mildly impressed. He held out his flask. “Old Overholt rye. Trade ya.”

Hanzo gave him a long, sideways look. Curiosity got the better of him, and he unclipped the sake gourd and handed it over, took the flask from Jesse and took a long swig. It was unexpectedly sweet, with a hit of vanilla, and then burned with white pepper when he swallowed. He liked the spice of it down the back of his throat.

“Good,” Jesse nodded, looking equally surprised by the sake. “Genji used to get some kinda cheap stuff. God, that shit was awful.”

Hanzo chuckled in spite of himself. “He never had the patience for learning about sake. He knew how to talk about it superficially, but he could never develop a palate for it. He always preferred American or European alcohol.”

Jesse took another pull of sake and then gave Hanzo an appraising look. “Whaddaya say we stay up here for a while and get shit-faced?”

“You are not worried about one of us going over the rail?”

Jesse blinked at the shoulder-high rail, and then down at the hundred meter fall beyond. “’F we’re _that_ dumb, we deserve to.”

Hanzo took another pull of whiskey and sat down. “Sounds fair.”

As always, Hanzo found the cowboy easier to talk to than he expected. Maybe it was just the whiskey, loosening his tongue. “Or maybe the problem’s jus’ _me_ ,” he slurred.

“Wha’s jus’ you, honey?” Jesse blinked. Hanzo knew from experience that the sake gave a smoother kind of high, all the loose, warm, delicious, floaty, comfortable feelings, all the illusion of still being in control.

The whiskey, meanwhile, was going through his blood like fizz-candy, taking Hanzo’s brain along with it. He could _feel_ his thoughts fizzing from one to the next, sparking and crackling, making it difficult to focus. “Huh?”

“I say, wha’ssa prob’em jus’ you?” Jesse repeated.

Hanzo tried retracing his thoughts. They were just as electric in reverse. “Can’ talk t’ people,” he remembered. “I get -” He waved his finger at his head. “Annoyed.”

Jesse giggled.

“Wah-wah-wah,” Hanzo did some baby-talk, crossing his eyes and imitating what he thought a Western accent sounded like. “An’ then Winston -” he did the same kind of talk, but flapped his hands open and shut alongside his face, like big elephant ears.

Jesse rocked backwards, laughing. “Can you do Lena?”

“Oi say,” Hanzo mimicked, pitching his voice obnoxiously high. Her Cockney accent was difficult, but he gave it a go, punching his fists on his waist. “What-ho, chaps.”

Jesse dissolved into more giggles.

The sound was electric, running alongside the whiskey through Hanzo’s blood, fizzing into his chest the way the alcohol couldn’t.

“Do Mercy!” Jesse begged.

Hanzo’s brain was fizzing. He held up the flask the way Mercy held her caduceus staff. “I am here,” he said, trying to dip his voice into her faint, slightly husky Swiss accent, “to save ze day. Because heroes -”

Jesse was laughing too loud for him to finish, rocking over on his side, holding his stomach. “Do me!” he begged. “Do me! Do me!”

“What way?” Hanzo blurted.

Jesse rocked back, laughing even harder. “The accent!”

“Gimme yer hat and that - that -” Hanzo waved, trying to snap his fingers at the shawl.

“What?”

“ _Need_ ‘em,” Hanzo insisted, grinning, still waving. “You ain’t _you_ without ‘em.” He dipped into the words effortlessly. Jesse had a peculiar way of speaking, but something about the rhythm was easy to fall into, sitting easy in the back of Hanzo’s throat and in the way he held air in his nose.

Jesse handed the hat and shawl over, and Hanzo plopped the hat on his head - backwards, but he didn’t care - and struggled to wrap the shawl around his shoulders. It kept getting tangled around his arms and knocking the hat off his head.

“Whaddaya call this thang, anyways?” Hanzo asked, trying to find his own arms and Jesse’s deeper voice at the same time.

“It’s a serape,” Jesse snickered, trying to help him. “It’s Mexican.”

“Why do _you_ wear it, then?” Hanzo asked, genuinely curious.

“Cuz I’m half Mexican,” Jesse said.

Hanzo stopped struggling and blinked up at him, over the serape and under the hat. “Really?”

“Why d’ya think I got darker skin, sugar?” Jesse grinned. “This ain’t a tan.”

Hanzo blinked at him a few more moments. Jesse took the opportunity to get the serape right around his shoulders, and flip the hat front-way around. It stuck up in the back, sitting high on Hanzo’s ponytail, but he tugged the front lower anyway, imitating the cocky, deliberately-over-dramatic way Jesse wore it into battle.

Hanzo squinted and ducked his head, sticking his jaw out, and pulled finger-guns up from his hips. “Reach fer the sky, partner!”

Jesse snickered. “I don’t say that.”

“Your cheesy movies do,” Hanzo retorted, sticking his tongue out.

Jesse grinned and took another swig from the sake gourd, waiting.

Hanzo took a moment to readjust. Right. Jesse had only the one gun. Hanzo drew his right hand up from his hip slowly, and held it out at arm’s length, cocking his head to the side and sighting down the length of his fingers as if it were the barrel. He wished he had one of Jesse’s cigarillos to complete the effect, as he screeched “It’s HIIIIIII-IIGGGHHHH Noooon!”

Jesse fell apart laughing.

“Don’tchew worry, darlin’,” Hanzo drawled, winking dramatically at Jesse as if he were a damsel in distress. “This here cowboy’ll save yew.”

“Stop!” Jesse begged, laughing, stomping one boot into the platform. “Stop! I can’ take it!”

But Hanzo was fizzing on whiskey and Jesse’s laughter, and he couldn’t stop it if he wanted to. He continued to spout cowboy nonsense he’d picked up from the Westerns, doing his best to imitate Jesse’s deeper voice and accent, until Jesse was rolling around on the ground, _crying_ with laughter.

“Oh, god!” Jesse tried to leverage himself onto an elbow, still laughing so hard he couldn’t sit up properly. He waved a hand in surrender. “Oh, god! Yer the cutest fuckin’ thing I ever seen!”

The compliment struck Hanzo dumb.

Jesse was still laughing as he managed to push himself up onto one fist, and he turned, only to be met with Hanzo’s startled eyes, wide and dark under the big hat, Jesse’s serape tucked warmly around his shoulders, and he looked so perfect Jesse leaned forward and kissed him. His laughter died instantly, washed away in the warmth of Hanzo’s soft lips, the taste of whiskey and the smell of jasmine. His hands were holding Hanzo’s cheeks before he even knew he put them there, Hanzo’s hand fisted into Jesse’s shirt and the other hand snaking around the back of his neck, kissing him hard. Hanzo suddenly realized what he was doing and tried to draw away in embarrassment. But his boldness and shyness together were even cuter than the imitation, and Jesse followed after him, deepening the kiss, letting him know that both were _okay_ , and Jesse wanted even _more_ of them. Hanzo stilled, a little startled, and then started kissing him back just as aggressively, one hand creeping back to keep the hat from falling off his head. Jesse adjusted it for him, so that the bulge of Hanzo’s ponytail was tucked _inside_ the crown, making it sit a little snugger on his head, the brim higher and less likely to get bumped. Hanzo’s free hand then fell to the ground between them, supporting himself as he leaned into the kiss, and Jesse’s own warm hand came down and covered it. He felt Hanzo try to lean into that touch too, and Jesse had to tug him back up with light fingers on his neck - their mouths were _up here, darlin’_. He felt Hanzo smile into him and relax again. They went on kissing for several more minutes. When Jesse finally drew away, Hanzo was lookin’ both whiskey-drunk and kiss-starved.

“Whaddaya say we take this inside?” Jesse murmured, sucking tiny soft kisses against Hanzo’s lower lip.

Hanzo shook his head softly. “Right here is perfect.” His fingers curled into the front of Jesse’s shirt again, right above his abs, and he leaned into Jesse’s open mouth again.

Jesse felt the kiss envelop them both, his hand cradling Hanzo’s head, Hanzo’s fist twisting his shirt, keeping them near each other.

It was the easiest, most natural kiss in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I keep having to learn about sake and alcohol for these fics. I don't even drink. What is happening in my life??
> 
> Don't drink in high places. Please. We don't need you to go splat.


End file.
